2 ^-/f 


AN  ADDRESS 

BEFORE  THE  STUDENTS  OF  THE  INDIANA 
UNIVERSITY. 


BY 

JOHN  MERLE  COULTER, 

President-Elect. 


INDIANAPOLIS: 

Carlon  & Hollenbeck,  Printers. 
1891. 


PRACTICAL  EDUCATION 


To  one  who  has  had  no  experience,  education  may  seem  the  sim- 
plest sort  of  thing.  But  it  is  one  of  the  most  complex  problems  we 
are  called  upon  to  solve,  being  not  a whit  behind  that  apparently 
unsolvable  problem,  free  trade  and  protection.  Those  who  have  had 
much  experience  in  this  thing  of  education  are  very  apt  to  have  cer- 
tain  views  of  which  the  public  in  general  do  not  approve.  A superfi- 
cial view  may  lead  to  one  conclusion,  and  a careful  dissection  to  a 
very  different  one.  The  trouble  is  that  many  have  the  superficial 
view,  and  the  few  do  the  dissecting.  As  teachers,  we  would  count  it  a 
long  step  in  advance  if  the  public  could  only  be  brought  to  accept 
our  conclusions.  As  it  is,  we  are  sometimes  compelled  to  compro- 
mise between  what  we  feel  is  right  and  public  clamor.  We  may 
be  driven  to  put  into  our  courses  of  study  things  which  are  only 
“ sops  ” thrown  to  public  demand,  and  then  must  try  to  stealthily 
infuse  into  them  as  much  of  educational  value  as  possible. 

In  these  days,  and  in  this  land  of  haste  and  sham,  of  wretched 
preparation,  and  foundations  laid  in  sand,  it  is  profitable  frequently 
to  consider  what  we  are  doing.  I know  of  no  subject  more  mis- 
understood, not  only  by  the  public,  but  also  by  those  supposed  to 
stand  as  its  representatives,  than  this  one  of  education.  In  this 
country,  whose  very  watchword  is  its  system  of  education,  there  is 
grave  danger  of  the  system  supplanting  the  education.  In  these  lat- 
ter days  we  have  a new  catch  phrase,  “ practical  education.’’  What 
monstrous  shams  have  masqueraded  behind  this  phrase ! It  im- 
plies that  much  that  is  called  education  to-day,  that  all  that  was 
called  education  formerly,  is  impractical  education.  My  claim  is 
that  the  phrase  “ practical  education  ” is  tautological,  and  that 
“ impractical  education  ” is  contradictory. 

There  is  but  one  life  to  live,  and  that  a short  one.  But  a few 


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years  of  it  can  be  devoted  to  what  is  called  “ getting  an  education/’ 
and  they  never  can  be  duplicated.  The  training  received  at  this 
most  impressionable  period  has  such  a directing  influence  upon 
one’s  life,  that  it  is  commonly  said  to  mold  the  character.  Such 
are  the  facts  which  make  this  thing  of  education  so  tremendously 
important  to  a youth  and  his  advisers.  It  is  a question  of  such 
far-reaching  influence,  so  unalterable  in  its  results,  that  it  should 
never  be  considered  carelessly,  nor  decided  hastily.  The  choice 
of  an  education,  like  the  choice  of  a wife  or  husband,  is  “ for  better 
or  worse.” 

I take  it  for  granted  that  we  have  all  discovered  education  to  be 
a most  desirable  thing,  a thing  worth  struggling  for,  a thing  which 
brings  in  its  hands  not  only  enlarged  usefulness,  that  noblest  of 
gifts,  but  also  enlarged  happiness.  The  oft  quoted  “ ignorance  is 
bliss  ” is  an  outrage  upon  beings  endowed,  as  we  are,  with  that 
“ delirious  yet  divine  desire  to  know.”  We  are  all  far  enough  ad- 
vanced to  have  gained  that  more  commanding  outlook,  from  which 
we  can  see,  to  some  extent,  the  exceeding  beauty  of  knowledge, 
can  catch  in  some  way  the  faint  outlines  of  her  fair  proportions, 
and  are  longing  for  a nearer,  clearer  view.  From  such  a stand- 
point, far  above  that  low-ground  question,  “does  an  education 
pay  ? ” would  I consider  our  theme. 

But,  one  question  taken  for  granted  leads  us  into  the  presence 
of  another,  which  has  been  given  manifold  and  most  perplexing 
answers,  “ what  sort  of  an  education  is  best?  ” In  the  attempt  to 
answer  this  question  is  to  be  found  all  the  educative  activity  of  this 
wonderful  age.  Systems  of  all  sorts  present  themselves  to  the  in- 
quiring public,  all  defended  by  stout  champions,  and  possessing  all 
degrees  of  merit,  from  those  that  are  wise  and  prudent  to  those 
that  are  characterized  by  wildness  and  unmitigated  folly.  Never 
was  there  an  ailment  so  provided  for  with  patent  medicines  as  this 
one.  We  have,  in  these  latter  days  of  grading  and  bridging  and 
tunneling,  even  the  wonderful  discovery  of  a “ short  cut,”  or  royal 
road  to  knowledge,  so  royal  that  the  happy,  unworn  traveler  is  not 
only  brought  into  the  possession  of  an  education,  but  himself  be- 
comes transformed  into  a “ teacher  among  men.”  Indeed,  we  seem 
to  have  come  to  the  dawn  of  that  day  when  a man  is  to  be  able  to 
lift  himself  by  the  aid  of  his  own  boot-straps.  I remember  reading 
in  some  old  numbers  of  Harper’s  Magazine  a fancy  sketch  of  the  con- 


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dition  of  the  world  in  the  year  2,000  or  3,000  A.  D.,  and  among 
other  wonderful  inventions  was  mentioned  the  very  one  I have 
spoken  of.  That  is,  the  idea  is  the  same.  The  details  differ  a little,, 
as,  for  instance,  in  the  one  case  you  were  to  sit  for  six  months  or  a 
year  under  a bell-jar,  subjected  to  a particular  light,  and  stimu- 
lated by  a particular  food,  until  the  proper  bumps  developed ; while, 
in  the  other,  you  spend  the  same  length  of  time,  or  a little  less,  in  a 
school-room,  the  other  items  remaining  the  same.  Another  im- 
portant difference  is  that  the  former  has  a scientific  basis,  while  the 
latter  has  none. 

But  the  catch-phrase  is  the  one  already  mentioned,  “ practical 
education,”  for  it  captivates  the  plain  every-day  business  sense  of 
this  most  practical  age,  the  age  of  “self-made  men.”  A “ self-made 
man”  is  of  necessity  a failure ; but  a man  of  intelligence,  with  such 
teachers  as  Nature  all  about  him,  experience,  the  hardest  of  task- 
masters, God  speaking  through  his  conscience  and  in  his  word,  all 
directing  him  under  the  lash  of  an  unquenchable  longing  for  some- 
thing better — such  a man  is  educated ; perhaps  not  in  the  formulae 
of  the  schools,  which  are  but  as  husks,  the  outward  trappings,  but 
in  that  development  of  mental  muscle  which  gives  him  an  iron 
grip  upon  affairs,  he  is  every  inch  an  educated  man. 

But  “ practical  education  ” is  now  the  thing.  The  days  of  senti- 
ment, of  romance,  of  impracticable  notions,  are  past,  and  that  most 
unsentimental  thing,  science,  has  induced  people  to  ask  those 
dreadful  questions,  “What  is  it  for  ?”  “What  good  will  it  do  ?”  “Can 
we  make  any  use  of  it  ? ” As  well  reason  with  the  wind  and  argue 
with  the  whirlwind  as  attempt  to  prove  anything  to  persons  who 
could  ask  such  questions.  In  these  days,  every  study  pursued  is 
looked  upon  like  so  much  real  estate,  that  can  be  sold  or  mortgaged 
as  occasion  may  demand ; that  something  can  be  made  out  of  it, 
and  this  something,  freely  translated,  means  money. 

What  is  the  popular  definition  of  “practical  education?”  It 
seems  to  be  for  a man  to  study  the  very  things  he  proposes  to  do 
in  life ; that  is,  it  amounts  to  serving  an  apprenticeship  to  a trade. 
If  he  means  to  be  a farmer,  let  him  study  agriculture ; if  a mer- 
chant, let  him  study  book-keeping ; if  an  engineer,  surveying,  etc. 

“ Everything  else  will  be  so  much  wasted  time,”  is  the  corollary  to 
the  definition.  As  if  to  add  sure  proof  of  this,  it  is  usually  triumph- 
antly asked,  “ To  what  use  can  one  put  this,  that,  or  the  other 


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study  ?”  and  this  is  often  further  strengthened  by  the  testimony  of 
short-sighted  graduates  themselves,  who  frankly  acknowledge  that 
“ they  don’t  remember  a word  of  this,  that,  or  the  other  study/ 
You  may  have  heard  some  one  say,  “I  spent  four  years  in  the  study 
of  Greek  and  now  can  not  read  a line  of  it;  ” the  inference  being 
that  the  time  devoted  to  this  pursuit  was  so  much  time  thrown 
away. 

So  much  for  the  popular  definition  of  a “ practical  education.” 
It  sounds  well  at  first,  it  is  so  practical.  “If  you  want  to  be  a thing, 
be  it,”  is  what  it  resolves  itself  into,  without  any  reference  as  to 
whether  one  is  ready  or  not.  Such  phrases  sound  practical,  but  are 
anything  else,  for  the  how  is  not  considered.  I would  like  to  sub- 
ject this  popular  definition  of  a “practical  education”  to  a little  cold 
analysis.  Let  us  get  it  out  of  the  fog  bank  into  which  “ practical 
men”  have  put  it,  and  get  it  into  the  sunlight  of  “impractical  men;” 
which  is  to  say,  get  it  away  from  emotional  ignorance,  which  to- 
day is  called  “ practical,”  and  turn  it  over  to  logical  intelligence, 
which  is  said  to  be  “ impractical.”  Take  the  definition  as  already 
illustrated,  “ if  you  want  to  be  a farmer,  study  agriculture ; every- 
thing else  will  be  wasted  time.”  Let  us  apply  the  same  reasoning 
to  the  other  operations  of  this  would-be  farmer.  He  would  say,  “If 
you  want  a crop  of  corn,  plant  corn ; everything  else  you  do  will  be 
so  much  time  and  money  wasted.  Drainage,  fertilizers,  breaking 
up,  cultivation,  all  these  take  time  and  money  and  will  soon  be  out 
of  sight  and  forgotten ; all  you  want  is  corn,  so  plant  corn.”  I sup- 
pose he  will  get  corn,  but  you  know  the  kind.  The  young  mind, 
with  all  its  latent  powers,  with  all  its  individual  characteristics,  is 
well  likened  to  an  uncultivated  field  that  must  be  drained  and 
broken  up  and  harrowed,  ready  for  the  seed.  • Education  is  the 
draining,  the  breaking  up,  the  harrowing,  all  the  preparation  for 
the  seed ; and  the  seed  is  one’s  specialty,  which  is  to  be  planted 
when  the  ground  is  ready.  This  popular  cry  for  a “ practical  edu- 
cation,” therefore,  asks  us  to  omit  the  preparation  of  the  soil  and 
plant  the  seed  at  once,  that  there  may  be  no  loss  of  time.  This  fig- 
ure seems  to  express  the  proper  relationship  between  the  general 
training  or  preparation,  which  we  call  “education,”  and  the  special 
training  or  apprenticeship  which  looks  directly  to  one’s  life  work. 
It  is  these  two  stages  which  are  distinct  in  method  and  purpose? 
that  are  ignored  in  the  popular  reasoning.  One  prepares  the  soil, 


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the  other  sows  the  seed ; the  one  reduces  the  metal,  the  other  fash- 
ions it  to  its  special  use;  the  one  develops  the  muscle,  the  other 
turns  this  developed  power  to  some  definite  purpose;  the  one 
weaves  the  cloth,  the  other  cuts  and  fits  it.  Think  of  shaping  an 
ax  from  unreduced  ore ; of  wielding  a sledge-hammer  with  weak 
and  flabby  muscles ; of  cutting  clothes  from  an  un worked  fleece, 
and  you  have  the  sort  of  reasoning  used  by  “ practical  ” men  con- 
cerning what  is  called  “practical”  education. 

We  have  come,  then,  to  the  notion  that  education  is  simply  a pe- 
riod of  preparation,  a general  calling  forth  and  equipping  of  the 
powers  of  the  mind ; a sort  of  Indian  clubs,  parallel  bars  and  tra- 
peze for  the  development  of  mental  muscle.  And  just  here  lies 
another  fallacy.  Many  would  confound  education  with  informa- 
tion, and  would  say  that  the  Indian  clubs,  parallel  bars  and  trapeze 
are  foolishness;  why  not  develop  this  muscle  by  hoeing  in  the  gar- 
den, or  sawing  wood,  or  something  of  that  sort?  In  other  words, 
get  your  education  by  studying  subjects  that  you  can  afterwards 
use.  Without  discussing  the  merits  of  this  question,  I think  it  is 
apparent  that  mental  muscle  may  be  developed  without  a single 
item  of  information  being  obtained  as  such ; not  only  this,  but  that 
it  may  often  be  cultivated  in  a pleasanter,  more  even  and  scientific 
way,  if  the  utilitarian  idea  of  obtaining  information  be  not  con- 
stantly present.  The  most  symmetrical  muscular  development 
comes  from  the  gymnasium,  not  from  the  cornfield.  Qualifying  the 
information  obtained  in  a theoretical  course  of  training  by  the 
phrase  “ as  such  ” is  necessary,  for  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of 
any  kind  of  training  which  will  not  involve  a certain  amount  of 
incidental  information. 

Education,  then,  being  the  development  of  mental  muscle,  the 
period  of  preparation,  we  are  confronted  with  the  question/4  What 
is  a practical  education  ? ” not  in  the  popular  meaning  of  the  term, 
but  really.  Plainly,  it  is  that  kind  of  education  which  will  bring 
about  the  development  of  this  mental  muscle,  this  preparation 
which  is  to  bring  ability  to  grasp  one’s  specialty  and  the  prob- 
lems of  life.  Hence,  studies  become  tools,  the  agricultural  imple- 
ments, not  the  seed ; the  means  not  the  end.  No  study  in  our  or- 
dinary unprofessional  schools  has  any  right  to  be  other  than  a 
means;  the  subject  itself  entirely  lost  sight  of  in  its  application; 
the  grindstone  forgotten  in  the  sharpening  of  the  tool.  The  prac- 


8 


tical  farmer  buys  plows  and  harrows  and  drills  and  sows  his  seed; 
the  so-called  “impractical  ” educator  advises  the  same  thing  in 
educational  matters.  On  the  other  hand,  the  impractical  farmer 
ignores  plows  and  harrows  and  drills,  but  pokes  a hole  in  the  hard 
ground  with  a stick  and  drops  in  the  seed ; while  the  so-called 
“ practical  ” educator  advises  the  same  thing  in  educational  matters. 
I think  that  we  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  proper  defini- 
tion of  “ practical  education  ” is  directly  the  reverse  of  the  popular 
definition ; that  the  “ practical  education  ” of  the  popular  cry  is 
the  most  impractical  and  visionary  thing  that  can  be  imagined — 
the  farmer  without  tools ; and  that  the  only  practical  education  in 
fact  is  that  which  is  sneered  at  to-day  as  utterly  impractical ; and 
LowelPs  definition  of  a university  is  literally  true,  “ a place  where 
nothing  useful  is  taught.” 

The  question  still  remains,  what  are  the  studies  that  are  to  be 
considered  as  the  proper  tools  for  preparing  the  soil,  the  proper 
stones  for  whetting  the  blade  ? Surely  there  must  be  a choice 
here,  among  the  great  array  of  studies  now  presented ! The  no- 
tion that  only  a few  studies  out  of  the  many  can  be  considered  the 
proper  tools  of  the  teacher  is  a very  prevalent  one,  not  so  much 
now  as  formerly.  Swing,  in  his  “ Parlez  vous  Francais  ?”,  very 
aptly  puts  it  as  follows  : — 

“ For  many  centuries  it  has  been  assumed  that  the  study  of  the 
dead  languages,  Latin  and  Greek,  and  of  the  higher  mathematics, 
is  the  labor  which  gives  the  best  results,  the  exercise  which  turns 
a plowboy  into  an  orator,  or  a statesman,  or  a philosopher.  Col- 
lege courses  have  been  run  amid  these  three  shapes  of  toil  and  in- 
formation, and  it  came  to  pass  long  ago  that  a mind  not  reared 
upon  this  strong  food  was  deemed  still  an  infant,  having  known 
only  the  weakness  that  comes  from  a diet  of  diluted  milk.  That 
power  of  prejudice,  the  power  of  what  has  long  been,  over  the 
frail  form  of  what  might  be,  which  we  see  in  old  medicine,  or  old 
religion,  or  old  politics,  re-appears  in  old  education,  and  a scholar 
or  a thinker  without  the  help  of  Latin  and  Greek  was  as  impossible 
as  a state  without  a king,  or  a salvation  without  a clergyman. 
The  feeling  in  favor  of  the  classic  course  has  not  been  all  a preju- 
dice, for  that  was  and  is  a noble  course  of  mental  progress ; but  it 
was  a prejudice  so  far  as  it  denied  the  value  of  other  forms  of 
mental  industry,  and  failed  to  perceive  that  what  the  human 
mind  needs  is  exercise,  and  not  necessarily  Greek  exercise  or 
Latin  exercise.  A special  must  not  thus  dethrone  a universal.  A 
king  may  be  a good  governor,  but  his  courtiers  and  sons  and 


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daughters  must  not  overrate  the  crowned  man  and  predict  the 
utter  failure  of  any  nation  that  may  ever  dare  attempt  to  live  with- 
out the  help  of  a throne  and  royal  children.  Evidently,  the  great- 
est, widest  truth  is  that  the  mind  is  to  be  made  powerful  by  ex- 
ercise and  it  will  always  be  a secondary  consideration  whether  this 
exercise  shall  come  by  loading  the  memory  with  the  words  and 
forms  found  in  several  languages,  by  compelling  the  judgment  to 
work  continually  amid  the  many  possibilties  of  syntax  and  transla- 
tion, or  shall  come  by  a direct  study  of  facts,  and  causes  and  laws, 
as  found  in  science  and  history  and  literature. 

“Once  the  roll  of  human  greatness  read  thus:  Homer,  Hesiod, 
iEschylus,  Euripides,  Pericles,  Plato,  Virgil,  Cicero,  Csesar,  Tacitus, 
and  the  splendor  of  the  catalogue  none  will  have  the  rashness  to 
deny;  but  in  the  later  centuries  the  book  so  long  sealed  has 
been  opened,  and  there  have  been  added  Dante,  and  Milton,  and 
Shakespere,  and  Goethe,  and  Schiller,  and  such  thinkers  as  Bacon 
and  Newton,  and  such  students  as  Cuvier,  and  Humboldt,  and 
Darwin,  and  Huxley,  and  Agassiz  and  Gray.  By  these  enormous 
additions  the  equilibrium  of  the  old  earth  has  been  disturbed,  and  a 
side  which  once  lay  in  a perpetual  shadow  enjoys  a long  summer- 
time. Into  the  intellectual  world  came  a wonderful  company  of 
modern  princes — a Newton,  equalling  a Plato,  and  a Shakespere 
balancing  all  antiquity;  and  under  the  heavy  footsteps  of  all  these 
moderns  the  earth  has  been  whirled  about,  and  a larger  and  deeper 
shadow  falls  upon  the  land  where  Demosthenes  once  thundered,  and 
Sappho  once  sang.  With  this  tipping  over  of  the  earth,  the  Greek 
and  ftoman  lands  lost  their  exclusiveness  of  empire,  and  wrere  in- 
vited to  become  only  sister  states  in  a world-wide  republic.”1 

The  point  then  is  that  the  studies  referred  to  are  to  be  consid- 
ered not  as  the  only  tools  that  can  be  used,  but  as  among  the  best. 
From  the  great  array  of  worthy  studies,  then,  how  is  one’s  choice 
to  be  made  ? 

My  first  answer  is,  that  the  individual  bent  of  mind,  the  taste, 
must  be  a prominent  factor  in  the  decision,  so  that  study  can  get 
the  wonderful  impetus  of  consent.  When  the  mind  is  in  constant 
rebellion  against  any  course  of  action,  progress  in  that  direction 
has  upon  it  a constant  break.  I suppose  a man  could  be  nourished 
and  developed  by  artificial  and  very  distasteful  foods,  but  nature’s 
way,  the  better  way,  seems  to  be  to  get  the  consent  of  his  taste. 
At  a college  convention  I once  heard  the  opposite  position  ad- 
vanced by  a college  professor.  His  notion  was  that  whatever  a 
pupil  disliked  and  mentally  rebelled  against  taking,  must  be  the 


1 Swing,  Club  Essays,  pp.  91  and  97. 


10 


very  thing  he  needed  most.  “ If  he  don’t  like  Greek,  make  him 
take  it;  if  he  don’t  like  mathematics,  make  him  take  it,”  was  his 
cry.  This  is  strange  philosphy,  especially  among  educators,  whose 
sole  mission  is  to  develop  the  powers  possessed  by  the  mind,  as 
indicated  by  the  aptitudes  or  tastes ; and  not  to  undertake  the  some- 
what hopeless  task  of  making  something  out  of  nothing.  But  what 
if  there  is  no  taste,  no  aptitude,  a perfect  blank  ? I would  treat  it 
just  as  a hopelessly  sterile  field  should  be  treated,  one  in  which 
there  seemed  to  be  no  power  to  be  developed,  viz.:  advise  that  it 
will  be  a waste  of  time  and  money  to  go  to  the  expense  of  draining 
and  harrowing  and  cultivating  with  no  possibility  of  a crop  in  the 
end. 

A very  common  mistake  in  this  matter'  of  choosing  studies  is 
the  serious  one  of  choosing  too  many.  It  is  the  mistake  not  so 
often  made  by  pupils  as  by  those  who  prepare  the  courses  of  study. 
Many  studies  are  now  clamoring  for  admission  to  our  schools,  and 
all  with  some  show  of  reason.  If  all  are  admitted,  one  of  two 
things  must  be  done  : either  for  the  pupil  to  select  those  desired,  or 
for  every  subject  to  be  pursued  but  a very  short  time.  I am  sorry 
to  say  that  the  latter  is  too  often  the  thing  done ; and  it  is  the  chief 
complaint  I have  to  make  against  the  schools  and  ordinary  colleges. 
It  is  a term  of  this,  two  terms  of  that,  and  almost  a year  of  the  other, 
a regular  butterfly-flitting  from  one  flower  to  the  other,  everything 
in  turn,  nothing  long.  What  a travesty  is  this  upon  education ! 
And  then  to  do  this  hop,  skip  and  jumping  act  in  the  name  of  a 
broad  and  liberal  education ! If  there  is  breadth,  there  is  neither 
length  nor  thickness ; and  this  thin  veneer,  which  soon  cracks  and 
shows  the  untouched  roughness  beneath,  is  a most  common  posses- 
sion of  a graduate. 

In  his  “Evolution  of  the  College  Curriculum,”  President  Jordan 
thus  describes  this  popular  notion  of  a school  or  college : 

“ That  its  purpose  is  to  give  a broad  and  well-rounded  culture,  to 
train  men  to  ‘ stand  four-square  to  every  wind  that  blows,’  such  a 
culture  as  comes  from  a slight  knowledge  of  many  things,  accom- 
panied by  thoroughness  in  nothing.  Indeed,  the  desire  of  a stu- 
dent to  know  some  one  thing  well  is  characterized  as  ‘ undue 
specialization,’  and  every  effort  is  made  to  induce  the  student  to 
turn  with  equal  eagerness  from  study  to  study,  equally  interested, 
equally  superficial  in  each.  If  a momentary  spark  of  interest  is 
evoked,  it  must  fade  out  in  a few  days,  as  the  subject  in  ques- 


11 


tion  gives  place  to  some  other.  The  procession  moves  in  haste, 
and  the  student  can  not  loiter  if  he  is  to  keep  his  place  in  the 
line.” 

I submit  it  to  your  candid  consideration  whether  the  average 
college  and  school  curriculum  does  not  resemble  that  patchwork 
known  as  the  “ crazy  quilt/’  a regular  Meisterschaft  plan,  in  which 
the  oftenest  recurring  phrase  is  “ umsteigen.”  This  scratching  the 
surface  will  not  do;  one  must  plow  deeper.  Few  studies  thoroughly 
done , and  these  few  studies  to  the  taste  of  the  student , is  the  conclusion 
we  have  reached,  thus  far,  in  answer  to  the  question,  “ What  is  a 
practical  education?” 

This  makes  the  elective  system  the  one  to  choose,  rather  than  the 
patchwork  system.  One  of  the  striking  demonstrations  of  the  truth 
of  the  statement  that  a few  studies  thoroughly  done  develop  the 
most  strength  is  to  be  found  in  the  old  classical  colleges,  in  which 
but  few  studies  were  pursued,  but  they  were  pursued  continuously, 
and  in  such  schools  were  developed  the  intellectual  muscle  and 
sinews  of  the  world.  When  these  studies  began  to  be  cut  short  by 
the  demands  of  new  subjects,  just  so  much  was  the  course  enfeebled. 
This  old  classic  course  was  simply  a special  course,  what  would  be 
called  an  elective  course  now,  the  development  of  a specialty,  the 
sticking  for  years  to  one  or  two  things,  a magnificent  illustration 
and  proof  of  what  is  claimed  to-day  for  special  or  elective  courses 
as  opposed  to  the  superficial  smattering  of  a maximum  of  subjects 
in  a minimum  of  time.  Elementary  instruction  in  a variety  of 
subjects  is  good  enough  for  general  information,  but  if  mental 
power  is  to  be  developed,  the  alphabet  and  preliminary  definitions 
must  be  left  behind  in  some  subject  or  other,  and  the  mind  be 
led  to  the  frontier,  that  ill-defined  boundary  between  the  known 
and  unknown,  and  gain  in  one  direction,  at  least,  that  look  into 
the  whirling  mist  of  the  unknown  which  is  a tremendous  educa- 
tion, and  one  which  no  treading  of  myriads  of  well-worn  paths  can 
ever  bring. 

From  the  valley  at  Fabyan’s,  in  a comfortable  seat  upon  a broad 
veranda,  one  looks  out  upon  the  noble  forms  of  Mt.  Washington 
and  its  associates,  with  their  rugged  sides  and  dark  forests,  their 
heads  up  among  the  clouds,  and  the  glory  of  sunlight  over  it  all. 
The  mountains  look  peaceful,  the  cloud  seems  to  rest  like  a filmy 
veil  about  the  summits,  and  so  your  impression  of  mountain  and 


12 


cloud  is  made,  something  that  a glance  can  take  in,  and  then  you 
turn  to  some  other  view.  But  wait!  Suppose,  with  staff  in  hand 
and  muscles  trained,  you  begin  to  climb.  At  first  the  way  is  smooth 
enough ; but  soon  the  road  is  steep  and  rough,  the  rocks  are  wilder, 
the  forest  darkens,  and  the  breath  quickens  as  muscles  begin  to 
feel  the  strain  of  effort.  Higher  and  higher  you  push  along  the 
toilsome  way.  Will  it  never  end  ? Are  the  rocks  and  the  forest  and 
the  steep  ascent  endless  ? Up,  up,  till  the  breath  is  gone,  the  mus- 
cles quiver,  the  brain  throbs,  and  you  sink  upon  some  deep  couch 
of  moss  to  rest.  Glancing  downward,  the  world  lies  at  your  feet  ; 
fields,  plains,  valleys,  mountains,  stretch  out  in  endless  succession, 
and  such  a view,  such  thoughts  as  enter  you  then,  were  never  yours 
before.  But  still  there  is  height  above,  and  throbbing  heart,  and 
straining  muscles,  and  the  steep,  rough  road  are  yours  again,  as 
you  press  up,  up,  up ; until,  at  last,  the  moment  comes  when  your 
feet  are  on  the  loftiest  summit.  The  wild  desolation  of  ruin  is 
everywhere,  a blinding,  driving  mist  storms  wildly  all  about  you, 
and  you  are  dazed  with  the  ceasless  din.  You  are  alone  in  awful 
solitude,  a pigmy  in  the  presence  of  tremendous  size  and  force ; 
your  own  littleness  settles  down  upon  you;  the  greatness  and 
majesty  of  nature  fills  your  soul ; and  then,  suddenly,  the  mist  is  torn 
aside,  and  you  get  a glimpse  of  a vision  that  no  art  can  portray,  no 
tongue  of  man  describe,  a glimpse  of  far-off  lands  and  cloudless 
skies.  Which  is  education  in  mountain  and  cloud,  the  lazy  on-look- 
ing from  the  porch,  or  that  of  the  long,  rough  road,  the  driving 
mist,  and  the  vision  ? 

I care  not  what  mountain  you  climb,  but  if  you  are  among  them, 
say  not  that  you  know  them  until  you  have  had  at  least  one  be- 
neath your  feet. 

I believe  the  conclusion  irresistible : that  to  obtain  the  best  re- 
sults, the  best  development  of  mental  powers,  the  best  education, 
at  least  one  study,  and  that  a chosen  one,  should  be  pursued  through 
as  great  a length  of  time  as  possible;  if  in  college,  throughout  the 
entire  course.  Accompanying  this  there  should  be  related  or  sup- 
plementary studies  which  the  one  chosen  involves,  none  of  which 
need  represent  a serious  amount  of  time.  Thus  the  chosen  subject 
is  the  backbone  which  runs  continuously  through  the  system,  and 
the  correlated  studies  are  like  the  ribs  supporting  and  bracing  on 
every  side. 


13 


Thus  is  combined  the  sum  total  of  advantages,  viz. : few  studies, 
the  consent  of  taste,  thorough  and  advanced  work  in  some  direc- 
tion, a maximum  of  general  information  consistent  with  the  other 
ends  in  view,  which  prevents  too  great  narrowing.  This  is  no  ideal 
sketch  of  an  unattainable  condition  of  things,  but  the  actual  work- 
ing plan  of  our  more  advanced  colleges.  This  is  the  ideal  “ practi- 
cal education,”  which  must  make  the  strongest  men  and  women. 
The  same  principle  should  find  its  application  not  only  in  highly 
favored  colleges,  but  in  our  schools  and  academies  as  well.  “ Too 
many  studies,1 ” “ too  many  studies/’  is  the  cry  to  take  up  against 
them.  Why,  a high  school  has  become  a little  university,  with  its 
fourteen  weeks  of  everything ! When  it  can  be  beaten  into  the  head 
of  the  average  curriculum  maker  that  studies  are  not  an  end,  but  a 
means,  and  that  the  number  and  subjects  of  studies  make  little  dif- 
ference compared  with  the  time  devoted  to  them,  we  may  hope  for 
something  better.  Biology,  for  instance,  in  ordinary  schools,  need 
never  be  taught  in  both  its  departments  of  botany  and  zoology,  but 
that  one  selected  with  which  the  teacher  is  most  familiar,  and  the 
whole  time  usually  assigned  to  both  devoted  to  that  one,  and  that 
doubled  by  throwing  out  two  or  three  other  studies.  This  sort  of 
decimation  in  all  distinct  departments  of  study  would  leave  the 
schools  in  a very  healthy  condition,  like  a skillfully  pruned  vine, 
and  the  chances  for  bearing  fruit  would  be  largely  increased. 

Even  with  our  vertebrated  courses  of  study  there  still  remains 
the  danger  of  smattering,  even  within  the  confines  of  a specialty. 
Suppose  one  has  chosen  the  general  and  frequently  selected  depart- 
ment of  modern  languages ; not  German  or  French  or  Italian,  but 
modern  languages.  I speak  of  this  particularly  because  if  there  is 
anything  which  masquerades  as  “culture”  in  modern  society  it  is  a 
smattering  knowledge  of  modern  languages.  The  young  lady  and 
gentleman  are  not  considered  finished  until  French  and  German 
phrases  roll  glibly  from  their  tongues  and  imbed  themselves  in  the 
massive  English  like  dried  currants  in  a pound  cake.  As  Swing 
puts  it : 

“Many  young  persons  are  learning  more  ways  of  expressing 
thoughts  than  they  have  thoughts  to  express,  and  Instead  of  having 
ten  ideas  of  value,  they  give  promise  of  reaching  at  least  ten  meth- 
ods of  stating  one  idea,  and  perhaps  a small  one  at  that.  Suppose 
your  beautiful  daughter  has  by  much  toil  and  expense  learned  to 
say  in  five  tongues,  4 he  has  the  pretty  yellow  dog/  in  Greek,  in 


14 


Latin,  in  French,  in  German,  and  could  she  by  industry  find  the 
Chinese  and  Zulu  vowel  sounds,  it  would  be  well  for  the  girl  and 
parents  to  remember  that,  amid  all  this  variety  of  speech,  there  is 
only  the  same  yellow  dog  all  the  time.”2 

So  there  is  such  a thing  as  smattering  within  the  confines  of  a 
specialty.  If  language,  let  the  vertebral  study  be  one  language ; if 
science,  but  one  department  of  one  science,  and  so  on.  This  is 
what  is  meant  by  scaling  a single  mountain,  and  not  walking  about 
on  the  plain  below  and  looking  up  at  the  summits  of  many. 

Thus  have  we  reached  the  relation  of  studies  to  a practical  edu- 
cation, the  rules  which  should  govern  their  number  and  selection, 
and  the  important  question  of  time.  To  my  mind  the  most  prac- 
tical question  remains  to  be  answered.  Suppose  you  have  selected 
your  course  with  the  greatest  skill,  fulfilling  all  the  conditions  we 
have  just  been  laying  down,  of  what  profit  will  it  be  in  the  hands 
of  a poor  teacher  ? The  largest,  the  overwhelming  factor  in  a prac- 
tical education  is  the  teacher.  Be  skillful  in  your  selection  of 
teachers  and  all  else  will  follow.  So  much  would  I let  this  princi- 
ple govern  that  I would  select  a great  teacher  first  and  then  find 
out  what  he  could  teach  me.  If  studies  are  tools,  almost  any  tool 
will  accomplish  the  results  when  in  skillful  hands ; and  no  tool  will 
succeed  in  the  hands  of  a bungler.  Don’t  select  buildings  and  ex- 
pensive laboratories  and  enormous  libraries  and  high  tuition  ; let 
none  of  these  things  catch  you;  but  select  great  teachers.  Equip- 
ment is  as  nothing  to  a successful  teacher,  who  can  utilize  what- 
ever he  happens  to  have,  and  is  himself  the  chief  opportunity  of 
his  pupil.  It  takes  men  to  make  a school  or  college,  and  not  build- 
ings, but  at  what  distant  date  our  boards  of  control  are  going  to 
understand  this  is  very  uncertain. 

What  are  the  signs  by  which  one  may  recognize  a great  teacher? 
the  ear-marks  which  point  him  out  to  inexperience  ? What  are 
the  qualifications  that  in  these  days  fit  a man  for  the  teacher’s  po- 
sition in  our  colleges  ? 

In  the  first  place,  the  subject  of  his  department  should  be  his 
life-work,  the  subject  that  to  him  is  the  most  interesting  and  inr 
portant  of  all  subjects,  which  when  slighted  by  pupils  or  left  out 
in  elections  produces  in  him  either  astonishment  or  pity  for  such 
short-sightedness.  The  day  is  far  past  when  a man  trained  to  be  a 


2 Swing,  Club  Essays,  p.  110. 


15 


minister  ora  doctor,  or  even  a college  graduate,  is  necessarily  fit- 
ted to  teach  any  department.  Because  a man  has  been  trained  to 
harness  a horse,  does  it  follow  that  he  is  the  one  to  shoe  him? 
Such  reasoning  is  far  too  common. 

In  the  second  place,  as  a result  of  the  first,  our  teacher  will  be 
an  authority  in  the  subject  of  his  department,  not  a local  author- 
ity, any  charlatan  can  be  that,  but  one  among  his  fellows.  He 
stands  for  his  department,  and  when  known  at  all,  is  known  as 
Smith,  the  mathematician  or  Greek  scholar. 

In  the  third  place,  he  must  have  power  enough  to  be  produc- 
tive. The  notion  of  a teacher  as  one  whose  whole  business  is  that 
of  a pump,  simply  to  be  pumped  full  from  some  reservoir  that  he 
may  fill  the  little  pitchers  held  up  under  his  nose  may  be  true, 
but  it  is  dreadfully  belittling.  He  should  rather  be  a perennial 
spring,  where  refreshing  waters  a-re  constantly  bubbling  forth,  a 
center  and  source  of  supply.  The  man  who  has  neither  power 
nor  inclination  to  work  in  his  own  department,  not  only  demon- 
strates his  unfitness  for  teaching,  but  loses  a great  source  of  inspir- 
ation to  his  pupils.  Imagine  the  difference  between  two  teachers 
before  a class;  one  carefully  crammed  with  second-hand  informa- 
tion which  he  is  there  to  impart ; the  other  in  the  flush  and  fire  cf 
his  owm  thought  and  work,  stepping  aside  a moment,  as  an  artist, 
with  palette  and  brushes  in  hand,  to  explain  the  beauties  of  some 
great  picture  which  he  is  painting.  The  one  is  a taskmaster,  the 
other  an  inspiration. 

I am  glad  to  believe  that  our  better  schools  and  colleges  are  not 
only  beginning  to  demand  fewer  studies  and  more  time,  but  also 
better  teaching. 

Thales  was  a great  king  and  philosopher.  He  lived  in  the  days 
of  brawn,  when  a stout  arm  and  a sharp  sword  formed  the  goal  of 
man's  ambition.  He  delighted  to  surround  himself  with  men  of 
might,  men  that  were  tried  and  true.  Near  the  far  off  border  of 
his  kingdom  was  a famous  hill,  for  it  bore  upon  its  sunny  slopes 
golden  apples,  the  apples  of  success.  He  who  would  win  a 
by  Thales'  side,  a leader  of  his  forces,  a member  of  his  c 
must  reach  this  distant  hill,  and  lay  at  his  master’s  feet  so 
its  golden  fruit.  Frequent  was  the  success,  much  more  fr 
the  failure;  for  between  the  court  and  the  hill  lay  a long  an 
gerous  way,  beset  by  snares,  and  beasts  of  prey,  and  wild 


3 0112  10565 


837 


16 


and  he  must  be  well  equipped  who  fought  his  way  back  to  his 
king.  Two  youths  were  being  trained  for  this  hazardous  journey, 
but  their  training  was  very  different.  One  feasted  to  repletion 
upon  all  the  dainties  he  could  find,  for  he  must  lay  up  food  in 
store  against  the  day  of  its  failure.  The  rest  of  the  time  was 
spent  in  providing  everything  he  might  need  for  use  or  de- 
fense. He  must  have  a helmet,  a breast-plate,  a shield.  All  his 
body  must  be  padded  and  defended.  Then  he  must  carry  every- 
thing for  which  his  imagination  or  that  of  his  friends  could  sug- 
gest a possible  need.  He  thought  of  this  device,  and  that  was 
hung  to  him;  some  friend  thought  of  another,  and  that  was  fast- 
ened on ; and  so  one  thing  after  another  was  brought  and  strung 
upon  him,  until  at  last,  when  the  day  for  starting  came,  he  stood 
ready,  padded,  helmeted,  covered  with  cloth  and  brass,  enwrapped, 
festooned,  bedecked  with  endless  bric-a-brac,  and  underneath  it  all 
flabby  muscles,  a quaking  heart,  and,  rusty  in  its  jeweled  scabbard, 
an  untried  sword. 

The  preparation  of  the  other  was  quite  different  and  by  no 
means  so  varied.  He  ate  sparingly  of  substantial  food,  trained  his 
muscles  unceasingly,  and  day  after  day,  day  after  day,  sharpened 
his  sword.  Training  his  muscles  and  sharpening  his  sword,  this 
was  the  dull,  monotonous  round  of  his  daily  life,  and  when  his 
day  of  starting  came,  he  stood  forth  magnificent  in  health,  every 
muscle  as  rigid  as  iron  and  true  as  steel,  his  eyes  flashing  un- 
daunted courage,  and  his  tried  sword  as  keen  and  trusty  as  the  fa- 
mous blades  of  Damascus. 

One  failed  for  there  was  no  strength  in  him ; he  could  hardly 
carry  his  cumbrous  trappings. 

The  other,  presently,  laid  the  golden  apple  at  Thales’  feet. 

Do  you  wonder  at  the  result? 


